


Love Knows No Language

by AcesOfSpade, WriterWrong



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, French, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcesOfSpade/pseuds/AcesOfSpade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWrong/pseuds/WriterWrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky likes to randomly tell Steve he loves him, to varying degrees, in French. He's sound in his assumption that Steve has no idea what he's saying. You know what they say about assuming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Knows No Language

Bucky, after his deprogramming, would still sometimes slip into other languages when he was upset, passionate, or distracted. Most of the time, though, it was French. It seemed he had taken to the language of love best, and he used it liberally alongside his English.

 

Of course, the thing Bucky was most passionate about was Steve, without a doubt, so most of his French was uttered in the presence of his best friend. 

 

On one particularly lazy day, Bucky was laying in the grass of Central Park, arms folded under his head and knees propped up as he stared into the clouds.

 

“Tu es parfait, tu sais?” Bucky muttered absently, not realizing he said it until it passed his chapped lips. When he realized, his blue eyes went wide and he made a point to  _ not _ look at Steve.

 

“What was that?” Steve asked, turning his head to look at Bucky.

 

“Nothing,” Bucky said quickly, a little too if you asked anyone else. “I was just saying the sky is really clear today.” There, a lie. Maybe it would make Steve drop the subject. 

 

“It really is. The weather report called for heavy cloud cover, so I’m surprised, but pleasantly surprised. The sun is even really nice.”

 

“Le soleil est rien comparé à ton sourire,” Bucky muttered, again without thinking. He really needed to stop this, needed to stop being so sentimental. He may not have the Soldier around anymore, but the lingering effects of being told ‘people are a weakness’ still bore their way into his skull every now and again.

 

“You know, Buck, I don’t speak French, so you’re gonna have to speak in English,” Steve huffed out a sigh.

 

“Sorry, force of habit,” Bucky mumbled. “I just said the sun is pretty bright today, compared to yesterday.” More lies, but anything was better than the truth.

 

“I want to believe that, but I’m not sure if I can.”

 

“Would I lie to you, punk?” Bucky chuckled. “Tu es mon âme soeur, Steve. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

 

Steve just shook his head and looked back up at the clouds. “Buck, did you just call me your sister?”

 

Bucky chuckled. “No, you idiot. I called you my best friend,” he corrected softly. It wasn’t really a lie, necessarily. More of a fudging of the truth. ‘Soulmate’ and ‘best friend’ could be interchangeable, right?

 

Steve pulled out his phone. He typed in what he thought Bucky had said. When he saw what it said, he nearly dropped the phone. As he turned to look at Bucky, his face turning a beautiful pinkish-red colour. “I’m your soulmate?”

 

Bucky wanted to look anywhere but at Steve.  _ Fuck Google Translate _ he thought bitterly. His own face was the colour of a cherry, almost a black one at that. He had really hoped Steve wouldn’t be able to figure out what he was saying. He’d dropped so many not-so-platonic endearments in French when he thought Steve couldn’t understand him, because he forgot entirely about the Internet when he was with Steve. Being with Steve was like being back in the 40s, long before the Internet.

 

“Tu es vraiment,” Bucky muttered softly, finally turning to lock eyes with Steve. “I’ve known that since I was 16.”

 

Steve didn’t say anything, instead he typed away at his phone again. “Je t'aime à la folie.”  Steve probably botched it horribly, but he hoped that he said well enough that Bucky got the message.

 

“Mon cœur t’appartient,” Bucky said softly, moving a little closer to Steve by rolling onto his side and holding his head in his hand. 

 

Steve smiled as he saw what Google Translate told him Bucky said. He rolled over on his side, head in hand just like Bucky. He scootched closer, so close that his breath was ghosting over Bucky’s face. He typed one last thing into Translate before speaking “Embrasse-moi?”

 

With a little smile, Bucky closed the last bit of space between their faces, pressing his lips to Steve’s. He’d wanted this since the 1930s, for fuck’s sake. He was taking this opportunity, especially considering Steve had asked for it.

 

When he pulled away, he didn’t pull away far. Just far enough to mutter something against Steve’s lips. “Je t’aime, mon cher.”

 

“I love you too, Buck.”


End file.
